Twenty Seven, With Interest
by thelittletree
Summary: Based on an existing relationship. It's Vincent's birthday, and Tifa has gotten him a gift. Silly little fluffy fic.


Disclaimer: Don't own Final Fantasy VII, or Vincent, or Tifa. Just inserting them into the machine of my imagination and watching what pops out.  
  
Twenty-Seven, With Interest  
  
by: thelittletree  
  
(I'm such a liar. I got an author alert for cobalt dragonfly's quick TifaxVin birthday fic, 'bloom' -- which was very cute! -- and remembered that Oct. 13th is effectively the V-man's birthday in the game. And then it wouldn't leave me alone. So here's a stupid little birthday fic. About chocolate. Man, I want some chocolate.)  
  
_'Baby I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time / Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you / Baby I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time / Hung me on a line / Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you'_ -- 'Maybe I'm Amazed', Paul McCartney

* * *

Tifa had brought him a present.  
  
Sitting at the second-hand desk he'd saved from possible incineration at the dump, old and scratched and too short on one leg, jotting down the last of the figures for the month and fighting the impulse to put the end of his pen into his mouth…Tifa had come up behind him, smelling delightfully like Lily's rosemary, ready with a kiss to his temple and a small burgundy box tied up with a slightly unravelling piece of lace.  
  
"Happy birthday," she'd introduced it with assurance. Not uncertain, this time, about his reaction to a gift. Not uncertain about his reaction to the fact that he was not a year older, would never be a year older, would never lose his hair or need bifocals or develop arthritis.  
  
Not stagnant, though. And after the first time she'd brought him a gift -- just a mug, just for his green tea, nothing extravagant, hardly even a present, justifying until she was almost out of breath -- he'd tried to show her, year after year, that he was capable both of change and a graceful acceptance of those small important things that made up society and humanity and hundreds of hopes and fears and simple gestures made out of love and meaning.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Open it and find out." There was a charming mixture of anticipation and fond impatience in her voice. And he knew something about this was unprecedented, and that his reaction would probably affect every present after this.  
  
He slipped the lace away, a needless formality he almost observed before biting his ungratefully sardonic tongue, and pried off the lid without ceremony.  
  
Chocolates. Different shapes and sizes, some wrapped in foil, some dark and some milk. How long had it been since he'd eaten chocolate?  
  
Tifa was smiling at him and a shift in her posture on the arm of his chair gave her an excuse to find her balance against his shoulder. "Aren't you going to try one?"  
  
Something about this -- its frivolity, the uncompromising indulgence -- made him want to set them aside for later when he might be able to appreciate the gesture better. Still a struggle for him to dismiss the sentry that still stood a vigilant post on every second, every minute, every detail of his life. Even when he was sharing his life.  
  
He met her glance and her smile had become that knowing smile that said she knew exactly what was going through his head. And he rolled his eyes. And purposefully took a chocolate out of the box and popped it into his mouth before she could say anything.  
  
Caramel. Melting. Tifa was testing him, he recognized suddenly, looking for one small chink where she could turn a key and open up one more facet of his humanity. He kept his eyes on her, chewing slowly and letting himself, for the moment, savour.  
  
"Do you like them?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow, putting on a show of unaffected curiosity -- the sheltered reticent marvelling faintly at something that held a hint of novelty -- that he knew wouldn't fool her for a second.  
  
"They're adequate."  
  
"Oh. Adequate." She tilted her head a little, presumably giving his answer an inordinate amount of thought. "Then I suppose I'd better take them back and try to find something a little more…"  
  
She'd been reaching for them as she spoke, taking the taunt to the next level and giving him ample time to do what she knew he was going to do. Pull the chocolates out of reach.  
  
And then she laughed, and the contest turned into a childish game of pushing, reaching, grasping, tickling keep-away until they were both out of breath and Vincent's numbers had mostly ended up on the floor.  
  
"Self-deluded fool," Tifa chuckled into his shirt, hopelessly, awkwardly sprawled in his lap, and bonelessly happy about it. Feeling anything but offended, Vincent popped another chocolate and held one out for her to take. She opened her mouth and he obligingly fed it to her. "Well, I think they're good," she stated in an amused and resolved validation. And then she twisted around to get out of his lap. "That's all I wanted. I'll leave you to clean up the paperwork."  
  
"Mm, generous of you."  
  
As she stood and began to walk out of the room, however, Vincent caught her hand. Waited until she'd turned her smile on him, until he knew his lips were twitching in almost automatic response.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Her smile widened and she stepped back into him. And he let himself indulge in her kisses. Some things had become more necessary than others.  
  
And every second was making him increasingly sure that chocolates, like other details, were no longer a solid frivolity, but merely another part of accepted and undeceived humanity.  
  
Because, in the end, Tifa couldn't be anything but aware of every moment, too, and she knew better than he how to make him aware of the small important things. And now, years after the first days when he'd been selfish and stupid enough not to recognize them as gifts in themselves, he couldn't be anything but grateful for things as invaluable as love and persistence.  
  
"You're welcome, Vincent. I'm going to make some tea. Do you want some?"  
  
He nodded as he set about collecting his disturbed math from where it lay scattered over the carpet. But once it was all back in its proper order he found it impossible to stay at his desk. Sitting for a few moments, looking at the numbers, thinking about all of the mornings and afternoons and evenings spent alone or hunting, and knowing those weren't the memories he would dwell on when she was gone.  
  
He grabbed up the chocolates and glanced perfunctorily at his watch. An hour and a half before pre-school ended. And nothing to do that couldn't wait until Tifa knew how very much he'd appreciated his birthday present.


End file.
